Fears
by Gwaeren
Summary: Fears have a way of delaying some of the best things in our lives. Pre-relationship drabble of just how frustrating things can be when someone is afraid to show how much they care. Rating just to be safe, but it's probably close to "k".


Author's Note: Set before the couple actually IS a couple. In the manga, its hinted that Haruka has a very hard time admitting how she feels (especially when it comes to confessing love for someone). Even in the Anime, despite the flirting nature of Haruka, Michiru (as well as a few other characters) is capable of getting her to blush on numerous occasions, at a loss for words at others. Almost always, this stems from Haruka's inability to just say how she feels about something – or someone. Written in Michiru's point of view. A Haruka's point of view piece for another point and time is being planned in response to this.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except plot bunnies. Keep them fed with review-carrots. Otherwise, they tend to die on me.

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Another foe bit the dust, though not without a heavy struggle. They were getting stronger – each one giving us more and more of a fight before we could defeat them. I'm used to getting injured, I suppose. Even the day you first picked up that henshin stick, you saw how easy it was to acquire new scars, new scrapes and bruises and cuts. Our powers have us healing faster, of course, and that much is welcome. But even transformed we can still be overwhelmed.

We need to find the Messiah. Only she can end this. Even Sailor Moon isn't enough, at times, to put any ease to my mind.

We wait until we're home to de-transform, giving our bodies some time with accelerated healing to help take care of our wounds. But even that isn't enough. I can see blood seeping through your shirt only seconds after it appears on your body, and soundlessly I grab your hand. You don't protest, either. You know where I'm going, and what needs to be done.

The only words that come from either of us are directions as our third first aid kit in two weeks is cracked open for use. Lift your hand. Turn this way, or that way. Hold your hair up.

After a few minutes of this, finally we're patched up. Tomorrow or the day after, it will feel as though we've never been hurt, but right now? Right now everything aches. I wince as I put my weight on an ankle that had managed to get turned under me during the fight and I frown when I hear your laugh.

"Looks like I'm carrying you to dinner," you say in that husky voice that I've grown to love. I shake my head in determination, but two more shaky steps has your arm snaking around my waist and me sagging in defeat. A moment later and I'm up in your arms, fighting an entirely different battle.

You've no idea how much you've affected me, do you?

I can't believe you don't feel my heart beating faster when you touch me, or hear my breath hitch when you flirt with me, or the jealousy… oh, the jealousy. Yes, I work hard to hide it, but when you flirt with other girls – even your precious Odango, I can't help but feel a little twinge. I know, I know. It's just your nature. You'd flirt even if you were committed to someone else. But when you're not mine? When I know that you don't have any obligation to come back to me? The uncertainty of it all is crushing.

You're oblivious to it, though, aren't you?

Even as my head rests against your shoulder, my legs folded over one of your arms while the other supports my back – you don't have the slightest clue how wonderful and excruciating it is to be like this.

To be this close to you, to have you care this much, and not have that final step I've wanted since I laid eyes on you.

I can hear the chair slide from under the table and realize you must have moved it with your feet. And then with gentleness few probably ever would know, you set me down and slide the chair – and me with it – back under the table. "I think," you utter softly, one of your hands resting on my shoulder, "that tonight we deserve something special for dinner, hm?" You step away then and flash me a grin that melts my heart all over again. The phone is picked up and the next thing I know, you're ordering our favorites. Delivery. From the restaurant we both adore. Oh Haruka…

"We can't just order out every time we get hurt, you realize," I comment quietly and fight to smile when I see the pout on your lips. So quick to sulk, aren't you? "But," I continue, enjoying the hope I see glitter in your eyes, "I'm glad you did. Today was… extraordinary, wasn't it?" You nod, pulling one of the chairs next to mine out, dragging it a little closer to me before sitting down.

"Michi… I don't know how much longer we can keep doing this," you confess, your voice softer than normal. No honorifics here – we're long past those. I reach a hand over, lacing my fingers through your own – a habit I'll never get tired of.

"I know. Our only hope is to find the Talismans. And the Messiah. And hope we don't die before it happens," I reply, and hate how despondent my voice sounds. You must not have liked it either, because your fingers tighten around my own.

"I won't let that happen. We'll find those Talismans, Michi. We'll find them, and the Messiah. I… I won't let those nightmares happen." There's something in your voice I can't quite place. And you look so much more certain of yourself now. So fierce. I have to take a moment or two just to catch my breath before speaking again.

"I believe you," I utter, and your hand relaxes a little. Just a little. "When you talk like that… Ruka, I can't help but believe you. You're so… driven." You laugh at the small joke, and I can't stop the smile from curving my lips. You're beautiful when you laugh. My heart wants us to be like this for the rest of our lives. Well, not quite exactly like this. But close.

"Let me see that ankle of yours?" I know I look surprised at the request, because you seem like you're about to laugh again. "What? I'm not going to bite!" you tease, and the wink that follows sets my heart fluttering annoyingly in my chest. But I oblige. You had me using a sprained wrist only hours later, almost to its fullest. So what could this hurt?

You let my foot settle in your lap and focus on the injured joint with a tiny frown formed on your mouth. Moments later, you're gently pushing this way and that on it, apologizing sincerely when I can't hold back a whimper or two – fixing an injury often hurts far more than acquiring said injury, and we both know it. But if it means being able to walk around tonight? I'll happily submit to worse. Besides, along with the pain is the wonderful feeling of your fingers on my skin, and I wouldn't trade that sensation for the world.

Ten minutes later and those touches aren't hurting me anymore. Now they're just coaxing the muscles to relax around the injury, and Kami-sama, it feels divine. Forget racing cars or being senshi, if you wanted to you could be the most in-demand masseuse Japan has ever seen! Unfortunately, this particular part of the massage is cut short by the arrival of our dinner. I watch as you rise, following your every move as you make your way toward the front door. You disappear behind a wall for a few moments, then return with a large bag of what we both know is going to be an amazing meal.

"Dinner, and after I'll finish up with your ankle. Does it feel any better?" you ask, fetching plates, cups, cutlery and napkins for us. I nod, casting you as warm a smile as my thudding heart will let me.

"Much. You're a goddess with this kind of injury, and you know it." Despite teasing you, it was true, and the look of pride I can see on you is proof you _do_ know. "Thank you," I add, and you laugh again, shaking your head.

"You don't need to thank me. I like it." That response leaves me fixing that smile on my lips, hiding the shock I just felt. Why did you say that? This… this is the part of our relationship, our friendship, that has me hoping when I probably shouldn't. You say little things like that and my heart soars with the idea that maybe – just maybe – you return my feelings. Especially when I notice the slight pink on your cheeks before you turn away to make up our plates. Salad – your favorite. And a platter of sashimi – my own. Two plates of the vegetable dish are set out, followed by a main platter of many types of fish and two empty plates for them. Two small bowls are filled with soy sauce and you bring it all over to the table. And then you bring out a wine bottle. It's a white, which should go well with the fish and the salad, though I can't see the label. Fame certainly has its privileges – there is no possible way a bottle of wine would get into the hands of two sixteen year olds if it weren't for both our fame. I'm grateful, though.

I look at the table one more time and startle again as I realize just how attentive to detail you were through this. The salads aren't just plopped on a plate like your usual style – you were careful to set the vegetables on top of the lettuce in a rather pretty pattern. And the sashimi – not just taken from the tray it came from, but artfully set on the white platter you'd put it on. The napkins weren't the plain paper ones, but cloth that we usually only use when our guardian visits, or our managers.

And the wine is currently being poured into the good stemware.

Haruka… what is this?

But you're grinning when you come back to the table with the wine glasses, and I don't know what to think. You're making this special, but for what purpose? To cheer me up?

Maybe.

I don't dare hope for more than that, and I return your grin with a little smile of my own.

"Itadakimasu!" we chorused before beginning our meal. Grateful indeed. Happy, despite the heartache. Happy because we were alive and together, even if I wanted more. I was grateful for what I had, and couldn't deny that.

I watched from the corners of my eyes as you started with your salad, smiling a little as I began nibbling on my own. It was something you utterly enjoyed, and often ate as a main meal, as opposed to before one. And this restaurant? Oh, it made some of the best salads – fresh vegetables, and a variety that I know you cherished. I can see you savoring bites from time to time, pausing just that little extra to let it all sink in. It was something I did often with the second dish of our meal, and it was cute to see you do as well. It was rare, after all, for you to let your guard down so much.

The wine was a sweet one, too. You know me too well. Gewürztraminer – you already know it's one of my favorites. Where did you get it? Were you saving it for something? From the secret smile you're trying so hard to hide from me, I'd wager you knew I'd realize at some point.

I just wish I knew what it all meant.

Do you care for me as more than a friend, Haruka?

Am I just your best friend, and stuck in the title forever?

Do we even have any hope?

Dinner continues quietly, and I can't stop my mind from churning over the possibilities. Even after, as you help me to the couch and resume your 'treatment' of my ankle, I can't help but wonder. Was this your way of romancing me? Of wooing me? Or was it just an attempt to cheer your best friend up? I hum a little to myself, my eyes closing of their own accord as the feel of your fingers on my ankle lulls me closer and closer to a sleep we both earned today. You let go of my foot after a short while, then gently turn me around, laughing when I let myself snuggle against your chest. The rumble echoes from under my ear and I smile to myself. Even if I can't have you, I can still have this.

Your hand strokes through my hair and I yawn, relaxing that much further. Safe and warm, tucked against you in a way where I can pretend you love me as much as I love you.

I can hear you saying something, but I'm so close to sleep I can't even focus on the words. Your voice is soothing, low and husky and… what are you saying? I try to drag my mind back out of the sleepy stupor it's in.

"… someday. Maybe. After this is all over," you're saying, and I try to keep up the charade that I'm asleep. Or close enough to it that you're comfortable talking to me like this.

"I'm a coward, Michi. Maybe not in battle, but in everything else." I fight not to frown at the admission. I fight not to wrap my arms tightly around you, hug you, and tell you that you're anything but. You're just Haruka.

"I can't even tell you how I feel now, and you're asleep. I just…" your voice pauses, and your hand twirls a curl of my hair around it – I can feel the pleasant sensation against my head as you do. "You deserve everything in the world, Michi… everything. Just give me time to get myself to a point where I can be what you need." Did that mean…? Oh Ruka… I wish you'd just blurt it out. Say it, so I don't have to constantly wonder. So I don't have these doubts.

But you said you want me to give you time, right?

Time… we have that, for now. So I'll give you time. Just don't take too long, or we might run out.

I let my mind settle again, slowly drifting into the comfortable blackness of sleep.

Was it my imagination? Was it just a dream creeping into my mind? I could swear that's your lips on my forehead.

Maybe I just am hoping too much.


End file.
